Slick's Squad - The Other Side (Slick)
by reulte
Summary: Sergeant Slick had his reasons for treason. Story takes place on Christophsis before 'The Hidden Enemy', before General Kenobi and Commander Cody are in charge of the 212th. Chronologically the first of the Slick's Squad stories.
1. A Squad Lost

Slick picked up the glass again and made sure it was empty then pushed the empty away. He didn't have many credits; clones didn't get paid. He couldn't afford a second drink but they'd let him sit there until someone paying wanted his table. He glanced around at the makeshift bar.

It was made from a tarp slung over a rubble wall of some bombed out building on one side and held by scavenged metal poles on the other. Light was provided by whatever was available; a large shard of mirror catching the dying sun, some candles, and a military issue lamp.

_Black market, _Slick thought absently. He should report it but he didn't feel like it.

The Jedi used the clones, but didn't care for them. Sometimes Slick wished he didn't know as much about the process of his creation as he actually did. The Jedi had bought the clones; purchased with the same nonchalance that they moved stuff around with the Force; whether or not the something wanted to be moved. They'd given the Kaminoans specifications, approve Jango Fett as the template, modified them to their needs without taking into account that these clones would grow to be independent men.

If given the time.

His squad wouldn't have the time. He'd lost them today.

_All of them_.

Teknik. Five clones strong and brave and true.

Ven. Five troopers under his leadership.

Knife. Five men who had depended on him.

Roan. Five brothers who would not return to the barracks.

Eighteen. His squad.

The worst part was he didn't even have a scratch or a scar to remember them by. Nothing on his body where he could point and say, 'I got this scar when my squad died; I bled when my squad died.'

Sure, the general had covered them with his light saber but in its own way, that was a weakness. You couldn't depend on it; you couldn't depend on the Jedi to maintain cover as he moved forward in some random pattern ignoring his own plans.

They'd been behind the General. The general just loping through the zone, Jedi-quick, as though he knew he was immortal. Slick and his brothers were behind the general, trying to keep up in spite of being neither Jedi-quick nor immortal.

Softly, he repeated it again. _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Teknik. Ven. Knife. Roan. Eighteen. _

He'd been saying that, repeating their names, like a litany since he'd come off the battlefield. Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen. He could feel all the anger and hate and pain whirl inside him, something building inside him.

A woman came by, young, dark-haired, and pretty enough to make some dark hunger twist inside his gut. She paused and smiled at him, her eyebrows raised in a friendly question. He waved her by with his fingers and a downward glance. If he didn't have credits for a second alcohol then she was well out of his price range.

She moved on but not before giving a soft sigh at his good looks.

_Give her time_, he thought, _she'd find plenty more like me. _His fingers gripped the glass._ Just like me_.

Looking down at the table, he made his fingers let go of the glass. He didn't have the credits to pay for it if he broke it.

At the moment, he was the only clone in there. As far as he knew, he was the only clone aware of this makeshift bar. He was in armor, theoretically on duty, but they didn't care. They took his few credits. In trade, he drank their brew, as bitter and raw as his emotions.

Slick raised his eyes and watched the woman go with regret. He would have liked to go with her, put his arm around her waist, and let her head rest on his shoulder. He would have enjoyed talking to someone not a trooper, someone not a Jedi. He would have liked to go with her, enjoy her company – in some bed of her choosing or even just sitting here at the table, basking in the warmth of her smile. He gazed at the young woman as she spoke to another patron then they both walked away with his arm around her waist.

Slick couldn't get married even if he did find a woman who'd want to stay with him, barely distinguishable from his brothers. Marriage was for citizens.

He earned no credits, he'd been bought and paid for, modified to fit some perceived need; his entire life conscripted to fighting for the Jedi.

He'd received his few credits – enough for a solitary drink – for lifting some boxes. He'd seen an old man trying to move his belongings from one burnt-out building to another only slightly more stable. Slick had suggested the refugee center but the old man was stubbornly against giving up his independence. It had taken Slick, with his strength, only moments to move the boxes to the doorway. He had meant it as a simple kindness. The old man had pressed the few credits into his hands.

"I'll not owe anyone anything," he'd said, not accepting the gift Slick had meant.

Slick understood. Gifts could only flow between equals. Not between citizen and clone. Not between master and slave. The old food hadn't even realized he owe the GAR for the entire planet, for his life. There was no such thing as independence.

Slick had no say, had never had the chance to voice his thoughts to anyone but his squad. Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen. Bright and brilliant, strong and fierce, they had often debated the Rights of Sentience or their contract or what they knew about Jedi.

"They can't all be this bad in group maneuvers and tactics," Roan had laughed as they had armored up and grabbed their weapons for the planned assault.

Slick shook his head. Had that only been yesterday?

Slick still had no say. Troopers weren't citizens. He couldn't work without citizenship except as a trooper. . He couldn't serve on a trial board nor be judged by citizens – he'd go before a military board composed of Kaminoans, Jedi and a few of his brothers so thoroughly brainwashed they wouldn't think about going against anything the Jedi said; no one who had any more concern than the tinnies about shedding clone blood.

Slick looked at the military lamp again. Some refugee had stolen it and sold it for a few credits – a clone wouldn't do that. Clones had no right to own anything, not even their own labor, and they never thought about stealing because stealing implied ownership. There was none of that in the GAR except by the Jedi. He was bought and paid for; he didn't even have the right to his own life – that belonged to the Kaminoans and to the Jedi. Perhaps that's why the Jedi were so callous. Clones weren't men, but merchandise in human form.

The Rights of Sentience didn't apply to them.

He'd lost his brothers today - Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen - and Slick's heart ached.

It was getting dark and he'd have to report to Senator Organa. He heaved a sigh as he rose from the table and looked at his BARC speeder. They'd be getting reinforcements soon. He'd have a new squad, probably coming in tomorrow or the day after. It was barely enough time to mourn his first squad, the brothers who had come out of Kamino with him.

But mourning was for people – not clone merchandise.

The girl came back, alone, a bit mussed, and looked at him shyly. She made a small gesture with her hand, _come here_, and ducked behind the corner of the building half of the bar.

Slick followed her, cursing under his breath. It was probably a trap, a few citizens too proud or stubborn or di'kut to be refugees waiting to steal his non-existent credits or the med pack from his belt. He didn't care. He'd be glad to meet them and glad to take his anger out on living flesh. He picked his helmet off the table and went, his thumb stroking the inner rim.

She was there alone and she smiled as he came near her and Slick paused in caution. There were no others around and he drew nearer, close enough to smell her perfume. Her arms went around his shoulders, around his armor and her fingers slid behind his head. She leaned against him, her face turned up, watching his eyes, smiling at his confusion.

"I haven't got..." he began with a shake of his head.

"Sssh. This is a gift." Her lips softly touched his, though he was too surprised to kiss her back. To hold his balance as she leaned against him, Slick put one arm around her waist and his instincts brought her closer to him. She rained kisses on his face. When her lips touched his a second time, he reacted. He began kissing her back, hesitantly at first, then with eagerness. With all the want and sadness in his soul

Slick was dizzy and trembling when she put her hands on his face and slowed, then stopped.

"I have to go, now," was all she said. She was breathless and her eyes were wide. The pulse in the side of her neck quivered rapidly.

It took Slick several minutes of leaning against the building to regain his equilibrium.


	2. A Man and a Woman

A Man and a Woman

The dark-haired woman who had kissed him was there the next evening when Slick came up on the speeder. He didn't get off the speeder. He had no more credits for a drink and had only come to see if she was there. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe he'd catch her eyes and maybe she'd smile at him.

Just maybe...

She came up to him, as if she'd been waiting for him to arrive, put her hands on his armored chest then sliding them up until he took off his helmet and her fingers touched the skin of his lips. There was only a moment for a quick kiss that put his pulse into overdrive before she went back to the bar but she had whispered a message for his ears alone.

_Tonight at the 3rd hour. Here._

Even after a second double-check of the perimeter for droids and seppies, he was nervously early. She was there, waiting in the darkness with a blue shawl around her shoulders, and Slick's breath caught in his throat.

Neither said anything as she climbed on the speeder behind him, her arms around his waist, her head against his back, and the thick shawl twisted around her shoulders. He took her to one of Crystal City's taller buildings, secured his speeder and led her up to a room with windows all around.

_It's a beautiful place._ He had thought that when he had first found the room, a crystal floor surrounded on all sides by seamless, domed glass - like a transparent bubble. He had shared it with his brothers and they had declared it wonderful and made it theirs. Sometimes they had lain on the floor looking at the night stars overhead as their minds wandered and they discussed their lives; bright and fleeting, like the meteor showers they watched.

Now he'd brought her here to share it. The crystal buildings around them gleamed in the moonlight which seemed almost low enough to touch. Above them, brighter than the stars, but not as bright as the moon, were the asteroid belts of the Hammers and The Barren.

She stood, staring straight up, awed by the view as he set some food and drink he'd taken from the mess on a broken table. There were no chairs so she spread the shawl down for them to sit on. _To lie on,_ he realized and, again, his breath caught at the thought. He removed his helmet then, with trembling fingers that caught clumsily on the locks, the rest of his armor.

As they dined on trooper rations and water, she talked about Christophsis and being a student at the university. She had studied crystal structures and energy matrices. Slick listened, mostly, as he admired the graceful movement of her hands.

As they sat on her shawl, she pressed herself against him and he put his arms around her to hold her warm. Her skin was smooth and there was the scent of flowers in her hair. This time Slick initiated the kisses.

"I'm not very experienced," he murmured into her ear when he thought it was time. "Absolutely none, if fact."

She smiled at that, a sparkle coming to her eyes and a mischievous smile to her lips. "Christoph men don't admit to being virgins. They think it unmanly to have no experience."

Slick had merely shrugged and kissed her. In the short time he had known her, he had become very good at kissing. "Everyone starts with no experience. There is no shame in it."

"And a great deal of pleasure," she whispered as she looked into his eyes, her fingers on his chest pressing him downwards.

"Teach me," he said laying back on the shawl, his arms coming up to surround her. "And I will become very good," he promised with a grin.

Slick fell in love.


	3. A Crystal Heart

A Crystal Heart

"Are you a spy, Maruli?" Slick asked her one night in post-coital bliss as he stared upward into the mass of stars.

"Nothing more than an opportunist," she murmured sleepily.

"Do you opportunistically spy against me?" It was mostly curiosity on his part. He made sure he couldn't be traced, nor did he tell her much about his duties.

"No."

Her answer was immediate and adamant. He caught no prevarication, no hesitation or quiver indicative of a lie. She continued speaking.

"You're my love and no one has any business knowing anything about you. And, you don't tell me anything." She moved closer under his arm, her dark hair curling into her face. "I like that, you know. That you don't give me any information. Maybe it's because you don't trust me, but I prefer to think it's for my own protection and I like that."

Slick fingered back the strands of hair then leaned slightly to kiss her softly on the cheek as she faded into sleep.

Usually, he slept as well, if only for a short time in her embrace, after making love to Maruli but tonight he only wanted to watch her. She slept so deeply, so peacefully calm that it soothed Slick simply to watch.

"At night, Maruli, when you close your eyes," he whispered several hours later as dawn began spreading light through their crystal chamber, "what are you seeing?"

"Life and happiness," she told him in a low murmur. "I see us together, an old married couple with grandchildren running through the stone gardens."

He paused and bowed his head. "That sounds like a nice dream." He ran his fingers over her back as she lay atop him. "It won't come true, you know. I'm not a citizen. I'll never be anything but a clonetrooper from Kamino."

"I understand that you're a trooper, but someday, when your contract is over, you'll come back to Christophsis." She opened her eyes and raised up, a concerned look on her face. "Won't you? To be with me?"

Slick gave a bitter laugh. "There is no contract, Mar. At least not one that I had any say in."

"You won't come back?" Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. "Is it because of what I do? With other men?"

"No. That's what you do to stay alive though I wish you'd move to the refugee center."

She shook her head as she sat up, sliding beside him, her palm on his chest. He curled his arm around her leg, lightly stroking the skin of her inner thigh. She smiled wryly. "They'd blame me for what their husbands do and for staying alive." Her smile became tender as she gazed into his eyes. "It's ok. I guess I didn't expect you to stay. Not really."

"Mar," Slick slid his arms around her, pulling her against him. "If I had any say in my future, it would be with you but I have no voice in anything."

"Why not? What have you done?"

"Nothing, Maruli; I've done nothing. What I _am_ is a Kamino clonetrooper; cloned as part of a contract to the Jedi. I am not a citizen, I am not even a person. I am classified as a commodity. A product. Something that exists only to fill a need."

She only blinked as her mind processed that information then she shook her head. "That's slavery and slavery is prohibited in the Republic. The Rights of Sentience guarantee…"

Her voice faded as he sadly shook his head. "The Jedi commissioned an army and I am merely a unit in that army. A "genetically-enhanced, flash-trained, biological unit" as the contract stipulates. Not a person. They were very careful about that terminology, I'm sure."

"You are a person, Slick. An individual." Her voice was insistent.

He glanced down at her blue shawl separating them from the crystal floor. This was what he dreaded, that she would see him only as a clonetrooper, no different than his brothers. "No, Mar. I'm just one of several million units. Identical to every clonetrooper decanted from the cloning chambers; trained the same, with no more differentiation permitted than four base pairs in our genetic complement."

She paused at that bit of information then touched him on one of the small scars on his arm, remnant of shrapnel that had gotten through the small crevice of his armor. "Does every one of you have this scar?"

Slick shook his head. "No, they have their own scars."

"So you aren't identical then."

"We all have different experiences, but our genetics and our upbringing is identical."

"Before the war, Slick, I had a genetically-identical twin sister and there was no one more different from me than her. Do you have any problems telling your men apart from each other?"

Slick shook his head. "No, but civilians usually can't tell the difference even with our armor markings."

"Then learn to use that similarity, Slick. My sister and I did." She laughed in memory, shaking her head. "The tricks we pulled on everyone…" Her eyes softened, "Never could fool mom, though. Even my father and brother couldn't tell the difference between us but mom always knew."

"I'd be able to tell, Maruli." Slick smiled shyly.

"I have no doubt of that, my wonderful man," she laughed and leaned into him for a kiss which he very thoughtfully provided.

"If I could marry you, Maruli, I would," he said after a bit of silence and being as close as two humans could be. "I would grant you anything I could."

"Your freedom, Slick." Her hand came up to caress his cheek. "That's all I want." She paused. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to my home. It's not nearly as grand," she gestured with a smile around their crystal dome. "But it's mine and I'll share it with you like you've shared this with me."

He froze for a moment. "Sharing; that's what married people do, isn't it. They share everything?"

She nodded.

"If my vow meant anything, I would give it to you. If I had a life to call mine, I would swear it to you."

She curled against him and wept for him.


	4. Flesh Droid

Flesh-droid

Slick had run his rounds. Some of the Christophsians he saw on a regular basis reported droids in the area and that was bad news. He wasn't sure whether to report to the command center first or to make sure Maruli was safely away from their meeting place. As it was, he compromised.

"Command, this is Rover 1. There are reports of heightening droid activity in sector three."

"Return to base, Rover 1."

Slick shook his head though no one could see that. "Negative, command. I'm going to check on one more contact first. My best one. I'll get specifics."

"Rover 1, denied. That is…"

Slick clenched his jaw on an abrupt refusal but there was no way he would leave Maruli near their crystal tower. That was too near where the reported activity was occurring. He heard voices in the background at the command center; a clear non-clone and not the general's voice saying, 'let him be the judge of that'.

"Rover 1, amend orders. Proceed towards contact, return to base immediately after."

"Affirmative." Slick leaned forward on his speeder, opening the throttle.

She was waiting for him by the tower, her heat signature evident in his helmet in the dusk. He manually overrode the standard and flicked to a combination of night vision and polarizing lens. Her life-flame narrowed, but the squad of droids were glowing in the sunset light.

They hadn't seen her yet but were drawing closer with each moment. There was no way to get to her without being noticed.

So, he'd make sure to be noticed. He slipped one hand down for a droid popper, clenching it in his two smallest fingers, and then pulled out his deece. Fek, there was an even chance he'd drop one or the other. At this speed, he hoped if he did drop anything, it would be the blaster. Though the BARC might be out of range before the popper hit the ground.

Maruli saw him coming and, at the speed he was going, knew it wasn't going to be the normal greeting. She ran out to a more open area then stood still.

Ah, was there ever a woman with more trust than her?

The droids had turned the corner and seen them by now; both him on the BARC and her in the broad plaza. They were firing their blasters at him, ignoring her. Leaning low over the BARC, firing his own weapon stabilized by the guide bar, Slick breathed slightly easier.

This might work.

One of their blasts hit the vane of the speeder but Slick hit one brake, sending the BARC slowly into a spin that had him nearly parallel to the ground as he and the BARC barreled into the squad.

The few droids remaining were tangled but rapidly untangling themselves as Slick pushed the speeder upright and gunned it forward. Right before grabbing Maruli, he tossed the droid popper behind him. He cussed as his deece went with it, but reached out his arm and pulled Maruli in front of him on the speeder then opened the throttle to full speed.

The BARC was smoking and Slick was nursing it to keep it moving by the time they were reasonably safe. Slick pulled the smoking BARC against a building. "Are you alright, Maruli?" Slick jerked off his helmet. "Mar, are you ok?"

She was panting heavily and shaking. Symptoms of shock, Slick decided and pulled the medical kit off his belt. She covered his gauntlet with her hand and he looked into her face. Her skin was red and there were tears in her eyes but she was smiling - abet slightly shaky.

"That was…" she blew out some air and her trembling fingers touched her lips to reassure herself. She slid off the speeder and tried to stand but her knees gave way and she would have collapsed if Slick hadn't caught her. "...some ride."

"There were reports of more droids in the area, Maruli." He put the kit up as he leaned his face against her cheek. "Are you alright, Mar?" His voice was a whispered plea. "Please let me know. I was scared they'd find you."

"I'm fine, Slick. Just a bit of windburn and a thrilling, scary ride." She hugged him and, for a moment, they were still, reassuring themselves that they were both alright and alive. She pulled away slightly and, knees still shaky, pulled herself onto the seat of the speeder. "I have some news you'll be interested in also," she was solemn. "I was in a bar eastside last night."

Eastside was separatist-held area and Slick worried when she went there.

"They're bringing in more forces. More droids and a loathsome general as well as a woman overall commander. 'She'll take care of the Jedi,' that's what they said."

Slick nodded, listening now as a trooper rather than as her lover. "Did they give any names?"

Maruli nodded. "No, but they going to blockade the planet." Her lower lip trembled. "They said he's going to starve out the Republic." Her eyes stared at Slick and her voice got softer until he could barely hear her. "Starve out the flesh-droids. I didn't know what a 'flesh-droid' was, Slick. I had to ask."

"It's a clone, Maruli. A flesh-droid is a clone. I am a flesh-droid."

"No," she hit him angrily on the shoulder bell. "Don't you ever - ever." She hit him again. "Refer to yourself that way. You are not a droid. You are a human being and I love you and I don't care what that stupid contract calls you."

There were tears in her eyes and, after a short patch job on the speeder, Slick set her in front of him and slowly made the way to her small home. He held her until dusk turned to midnight and then returned to base with the new information and more details.


	5. dĭ-sěnt

dĭ-sěnt'

"Move it," Sergeant Barlex stuck his head into the barracks. "That was good intel, Slick. The general has decided on an immediate attack."

Then Barlex was gone, shouting into some other barracks as Slick turned toward Ven muttering about sleep then remembered that Ven wasn't there. None of his vode were there anymore.

Slick made it to the staging area before the general. Most of the troopers were also there, waiting and prepared, milling in small groups. Glancing around, Slick saw he was the ranking trooper and strode down the lines to the shinies. There were far too many shinies in the company and far too few command group; Lieutenant Grey and the oldtimers - him, Sergeant Barlex and Medic Ferritin. There were a few good, experienced troopers and both he and Barlex had suggested they be made squad leaders, at least temporarily, but the general had not made a decision on that yet.

"He'll order you to follow him, but be cautious," he began talking to one squad with an equally shiny sergeant. "He won't always shield you with his light saber or follow the plan. Don't run straight in behind him. Use standard evasive tactics."

They hadn't given him a squad and Slick was beginning to wonder if they'd ever give him another squad. He wondered if he was being punish. As if losing his squad, Ven, Teknik and his other vode hadn't been punishment enough. He missed them. Not just being there to cover him in battle, but joking in the mess and the snoring late at night in the barracks. He even missed that. He would have liked introducing them to Maruli.

Checking their armor, tapping their weapons with a nod, or making slight adjustments, Slick moved down the line to another new squad. These troopers were without a sergeant, only one of their vode chosen as a squad leader. Slick began repeating his words as he checked over their armor. "Remember to be cautious. Don't count on the general to shield you as he orders you to follow and…"

"Sergeant, why are you telling the squads to disobey me."

Slick turned and saluted the general. "Not disobey, sir. Merely to remember that you won't follow your own plan and you won't cover them unless it's convenient. They can't count on you and will need to maintain running cover of their own." Slick paused. "They'll follow you, General." Slick gave a slight snort of resignation. "They'll follow you with their lives, sir. I'm just trying to help enough troopers survive to finish the mission."

"The tides of battle are unexpected, Sergeant, and there are often openings in the chaos that I can take advantage of."

"Exactly, sir. That's the problem. You take advantage of something we are unaware of, but give no warning to your troops that you'll lope off to one direction unexpectedly and leave them trying to figure out what to do. Some follow you and some follow the original plan, splitting a squad up into easy targets. I'm trying to convince them to stay alive long enough to follow up and press forward on your opening."

The general peered at him, his pupils tiny pinpricks. "We shall have a discussion, you and I, when we return after battle, sergeant."

Slick had a small epiphany; maybe just talking with the Jedi general would help. He could tell the general about their training and their expectations and how squads worked. "I'd like that sir. Perhaps I can explain…"

"You will explain nothing except your insubordination."

"Yes, sir." He glanced back at the shinies who had seen the interaction, and knew they'd follow the general. And they'd die.

There was the bitter taste of defeat in Slick's mouth and they hadn't even gone to battle yet.

* * *

><p>"Did I not say we would discuss your insubordination after the battle?"<p>

"Yes, sir. Here I am."

"But where have you been for the past several hours that I have been waiting?"

"I was assisting Ferritin with the wounded, sir. And tallying the dead."

"Yet, did I not say we would meet 'after battle'?"

"Yes sir. But, surely you didn't mean before tending the wounded." Slick tilted his head in puzzlement.

"Assuredly, I did. I meant immediately after battle."

"Medical assessment is part of the battle, sir." Slick licked his lips. In spite of his soft words, the general's anger was almost palpable. "It is specified in the GAR Order of Battle and Prece..."

"I am not interested in how you define battle, sergeant. I wished to have the meeting immediately after and, once again, your insubordination shows."

He watched as Slick narrowed his eyes in anger then dropped his chin in defeat.

"Of course, general. It won't happen again."

"No, it won't. You will be someone else's problem, sergeant."

Slick caught back a hiss of pain and pressed his lips tightly together. He was being transferred! Oddly, his first thoughts weren't of Maruli but of the squad he had helped earlier with his words who had followed his advice and mostly survived. He was useful here on Christophsis, his knowledge and experience important.

"I am being recalled to duties on Coruscant. They will send someone else. Perhaps they can deal with you better than I."

Slick nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand. It will be difficult to learn, but I will take it as my lesson to let battle units die before I inconvenience a Jedi."

"You need only obey orders, sergeant," the general said and Slick realized he was trying to be kind. "And let the Jedi and the commanders made the decisions you are not equiped to make. You are dismissed, sergeant."

Slick could only stare at the general in something between bewilderment and horror then absently saluted and departed the office.

Did the Jedi truly believed the clonetroopers were nothing more than 'flash-trained units'? It shook him to the core. Was he in actuality only a 'biologically-derived' flesh-droid?

He shook his head. He was more than than just a 'unit'; he was a man. He loved and he laughed in joy; he cried in pain and sorrow. He missed his brothers; not because they had simply been in the same squad and covered each other in battle, but because they had been unique individuals and they would never exist again. Because he had loved them not for their similarities but for their differences.

Slick decided he'd call the clonetroopers 'men' from now on. Let the Jedi hear that and reprimand him. They were men and he'd call them that.

But it was already too late for many of Slick's brothers. They'd lost two full squads and all the squads were all down by at least one or two troopers.

Slick wanted to cry but after checking with Ferritin and assisting the wounded as much as he could, he settled on riding the BARC out to Maruli's small home.

The destruction he saw along the way frightened him.


	6. Splinters

A/N - character death

Splinters

He'd found Maruli at her home.

Though it wasn't really Maruli; just her body, twisted and broken, like so many bodies he'd seen. Like the bodies of Ven and Knife on the battlefield. Her life's blood had soaked into the soil leaving it black, like the blood of Eighteen and Teknik. When he removed his glove to touch her cheek, her skin had been cold to his fingertips, like Roan. Death made her look different, distant. There was no smile on lips, no joy in her eyes.

Her body lay crumpled on the ground surrounded by coarse mud and translucent crystal shards. Her body, that only last night had been pressed against him in love, was barren and empty of the essential her.

Slowly, disbelieving, Slick knelt beside her. Her face, with it's unfamiliar laxity, was untouched and he brushed back her dark hair then wiped a bit of dirt from her cheek with a gentle caress.

"Maruli," he choked out her name softly then lifted her body into his arms, holding it close to his chest as he bent his face into her neck and wept.

He sat on the ground holding her for a while, talking to her corpse, asking her to take messages to his squad, telling her things he'd never realized until that moment. "Ven and Teknik will take care of you. Tell them I am so proud of them. Make sure they know how much I love them, Mar. There'll never be another squad like them, nor a woman again like you."

"Where's the blue shawl, Maruli? It will keep you warm." Slick shook his head. "No, you'll never be warm again, will you?"

Though he found her small cache of coins, her blue shawl was lost in the destruction of her home, so he used a blanket to wrap her in and took her corpse to the crystal-domed building.

It took him most of the afternoon, but after he'd set her in the uppermost room he and his brothers had claimed, after he set her under the crystal dome where they'd spent time loving, he took some explosives from the armory and set them at the base and strategic points up the side of the building. He didn't try to hide from the tinnies, but none came upon him as he worked while talking quietly to the ghosts of his brothers.

"Roan, help me remember. You were always the best at setting dets." Roan must have been listening. Slick's fingers were sure and steady as he set up the explosions.

When he finished that task, he sat next to Maruli looking up at the sky through the crystal dome. Several times, he considered setting the string of dets off then, while he watched the meteors above. But, in the end, he stood and took one last look at the bundle he had carefully placed in the center of the room.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Maruli." His voice was somber. "And you, my brothers. Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen. I am alive and while I remember, so are you."

As the sun set, shining the last spears of light onto the world, and the moon began to rise, casting a soft glow on Christophsis, he detonated a rapid sequence of small explosions. The floors went first, dropping everything into the lowest core of the building. Then the external crystals separated along their fracture zones and cascaded downward and inward, to cover her. The great crystal dome was last; shattering, as Slick's heart shattered, splintering into uncountable slivers, when it landed on the pile of debris.

Slick mounted his BARC. He didn't look back. His heart was cold in loneliness but Slick burned for vengeance against the Jedi.

He would take away their grand, glorious army of the Republic. One clone unit at a time.


	7. A Chance Encounter

A Chance Encounter

Slick was back at the bar. It was less makeshift now, almost a semi-permanent structure. He didn't look for Maruli anymore. If she came by, it was only as a ghost. He raised his glass in a toast to his ghosts.

_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen. _

In his mind's eye, he saw them as they'd been the last time.

Teknik running his hands over Eighteen's armor, making sure it was set for maximum coverage and maneuverability. Teknik, always so quietly serious and making sure everything was proper. Lately, he'd been hanging around Ferritin. "Learning a bit more than the usual first aid," he'd said, "in case we need it."

Roan laughing as he checked their weapons and explosives. It was what he was best at - both armaments and seeing the absurdity of life. Knife was loosening his trimmed armor, giving himself more room and flexibility. He was their fastest and, in training, he had liked to move into other squads and grouped enemies to break them up for his brothers. Ven was talking lightly to Knife; coordinating movement. Knife was Ven's responsibility. As Knife opened up enemy squads, Ven covered him.

_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Maruli._

He would love her forever; until he died. It was a very short forever. His final thoughts would be hers.

The general was gone but they still hadn't assigned him a new squad. They'd been telling him almost daily his new squad would come in 'tomorrow'.

His squad.

His.

As if they were interchangeable units. As if his brothers could be replaced. Slick was a clone and nothing was 'his' except his thoughts.

Slick didn't worry about what they told him anymore. He used the solitude and freedom. It gave him time to think and to plan. He still had his rounds and his duties but these were quickly accomplished. Even the freedom was part of his duties; to search the city, to look for traces of CIS forces, to find people and direct them to the refugee centers, to help them the best he could. There were very few signs of the seppies, as if they'd all flown away in that last retreat. There were enough tinnies remaining that indicated the seppies would return.

In the meantime, Slick planned how to take the clones away from the Jedi.

He could kill them, of course. Oddly, it was not as distasteful an idea as he would have thought. Knowing what he did now, Slick would have given anything to have died one of those nights in the crystal tower, lovingly curled in Maruli's arms with his face tucked into her neck. He would have given anything to have died with his vode in that first battle. Killing other clones before they discovered the cruelty of life that he had discovered seemed almost a kindness.

But Slick didn't like that idea, mostly because it left his brothers in the ignorance of what they'd been drilled in; aware only of what they'd been taught. It took away from the Jedi, but gave nothing in return.

He was coming to realize that the pain brought with it knowledge and understanding. That idea, he thought on long and hard; twisting it around in his mind to examine it from all angles.

If he could make the other clones as free-thinking as himself then they would no longer belong to the Jedi. Not only would he be depriving the Jedi of their obedient slave army, he would be giving the clones something. Not that they would appreciate it for a long time; not that they would ever like it. They would become more than flesh-droids, more than the mere 'clone units' of a Jedi-commissioned army.

They would be free men and, as free men, they would demand more. They would demand citizenship.

Slick sighed. They'd die, of course. There were only a few million of them faced against the might of the Republic and the CIS in some quixotic quest for self-actualization. Still, that was no different that what they could expect now in war. No different than what awaited them in the half-life span allotted to the by the Kaminoan geneticists. Nothing was lost except innocence and ignorance.

Slick weighed the question in his mind. Was it better to die in painfully-gained knowledge or in blinding ignorance? And, if he gained the freedom of even one clone, would that enlightened one clone help him free the remainder? Could he create a wave of knowledge that would grow by leaps and bounds as his vode - yes, they would be his brothers in pain - worked with the idea of growing beyond the knowledge they'd been programmed with?

There was a sudden silence and tenseness in the bar that alerted Slick and his hand automatically reached for his deece. His mind was quicker, weighing possibilities and outcomes, and Slick relaxed then brought his hands back to the table.

She quirked up one long eyebrow.

"I don't feel like killing at the moment," he replied to her evident curiosity. He gave a small nod to the light sabers, one in her hand, her fingertips touching the other. "Or dying." He glanced around the small area where he'd met a dark-haired woman who had loved him. "Or even making a mess."

Slowly, he lifted one hand and gestured a single fingertip to the Christophsan bartender. "A drink for the lady," he said.

She didn't move other than to relax her fingers. The bartender came and sat two drinks on the table then scurried back to the relative safety behind the bar.

After a glance at Slick, his hands gently curling around the glass, her lips quirked and she reset the light saber in its sheath, sitting opposite him. Her back was to the remainder of the bar as well as the opening but she was reputed to be a Force user.

It was a unique opportunity to learn.

* * *

><p>It had been a good conversation. She lied, of course, even as he hadn't been totally truthful either. They both knew it but they had both gained some useful information from each other.<p>

Slick bowed his head to the table, gently caressing the smooth edge of the now-empty glass. "Have you ever lost someone you loved? Are you even capable of love?"

There was silence and when he glanced into her face, he saw only the stony stiffness that he'd seen in his own reflection.

She was more like him than the Jedi.

Angrily, she stood. He could see her contemplate killing him; her fingers curled slightly and her pupils shrank into angry pinpoints.

It soothed Slick to know they had that pain in common.

"I'll be here tomorrow," he said. Mentally, he calculated Maruli's few remaining coins. "But you'll need to pay."

She snorted softly in disdain. "Take up gambling. You'd be very good at it."

He shrugged, even while considering his words. "I have my own plans which require money." He looked up into her eyes. "Quite a bit of money."

Her narrow face tilted as she observed him. "You would be willing to allow your brothers to die to achieve your plans?"

"They aren't my brothers," Slick growled angrily, knowing his face was as stony as hers had been only moments ago. "My brothers were individuals, unique. These clones, they're nothing more than flesh-droids."


	8. The New Squad

The New Squad

Slick didn't see her often after that one time but the bartender would slip him a drink and a message from her with the words, 'from a lady, sir'. Most of the time she simply asked if there was any information Slick could provide and he provided some piece of triviality.

She was right; he was good at gambling. The Christophsans had no idea how much information they telegraphed when engaged in the card games. Slick stuck with Sabacc; he knew the rules to that game and there was less chance and more skill required than some other games of gambling. He was coming in from rover duties and a game with more credits in the BARC's holdall than he'd ever handled before and only a tiny fraction of what Ventress had promised when Lieutenant Grey called him to the office via the helmet link.

Slick raised his eyebrows at what to do about the credits, then shrugged and left them with the BARC.

"Slick," the lieutenant gestured him towards the table as he walked into the office. "We've gotten confirmation of that blockade you had intel on. CIS forces are coming into the system en mass."

_Maruli's information. Starve out the flesh droids._ Slick's fingers stroked the rim of his helmet like they had once stroked his lover's cheek. "It was a good source," he replied, "reliable."

Grey turned his face toward Slick. "Could you get more…"

But Slick was already shaking his head. "Was. It dried up. Permanently."

Grey sighed then slid his data pad for Slick's view. "They've diverted some troops and they should get here before the blockade is complete. They'll arrive tomorrow." He gave a small twist of his lips. "I know I've been telling you that for what seems like ages but this time they've added the trooper designations so maybe it's for real."

For an instant, his heart thrilled. A squad, a group of brothers! His squad! Then he remembered what he was going to do to them - what he had to do to make them free men. They'd hate him.

Slick was alright with their hate so long as they achieved freedom.

"I've offered Barlex his choice," Grey was saying, "and I'll offer the same to you and Ferritin. If there's any squad or troopers you know or know of…"

Slick's eyes were caught by one designation. CT 41-9523. He'd seen the trooper after Excarga, threatening both staff and wounded troopers. It had taken his captain to come in and calmed him down. Slick had been taking Knife to medical; he'd broken up a formation of the heavier battle droids but had taken damage to a leg and his ribs on one side. Knife was coughing blood and Slick was sure it was a punctured lung. They'd halted taking wounded while some shabuir was yelling about brain damage and waving his blaster around medical. Only later had he learned that trooper had lost his entire squad for a second time and Slick felt he should apologize for his harsh words spoken in anger on Knife's behalf but the trooper was gone; transferred. Now, however… Slick rubbed his thumb against his lower lip then gestured to the data pad.

"I'd like that trooper, Lieutenant. CT 41-9523. I don't know him personally, but I saw him in action once. He showed a lot of determination."

Lieutenant Grey turned the data pad around and flicked through some screens. "The others are Kamino shinies, Slick, but their scores are good." He gave a soft laugh. "It's a squad of slicers, Slick. Just like you."

Slick also chuckled. "Not anymore, I've been a BARC rover so long, I probably couldn't slice a ration bar with a vibro-knife."

That got a rare, genuine laugh from the lieutenant; his face lighting up for a few minutes.

* * *

><p>Slick could see the LAAT coming in for a soft landing and the pilot had opened the bay doors for quick egress. There were a few troopers peering out the doors in anticipation.<p>

"Behind the doors," he hissed, mostly to himself. "Pull back, troopers, get your heads…"

A sniper round took out the nearest trooper and he was slammed back into the LAAT by the force of the head shot. Another sniper round took out a trooper as he was attempting to close the LAAT door. He hung for a moment, suspended and caught by something - Slick hoped it was his brothers because the trooper's arm was still moving, trying to grip the outer portion of the door - then he fell.

Ferritin was running to where the trooper would land but Slick knew he'd be dead after a drop like that and turned toward the snipers.

Immediately after the snipers had been neutralized, Slick strode to where the body lay, no longer a haphazard pile of flesh and armor but respectfully arranged by Ferritin. There were troopers around Ferritin and the body, their shock evident in their postures. Ferritin stood and shook his head solemnly.

"There's nothing to be done for him." Ferritin turned, hefting his pack back onto his shoulders and noticing Slick, he close-channeled. "He was one of your new squad, Slick. I'm sorry."

Slick signed. "I'll come to medical later to fill the notice. He would have been a good trooper, Ferritin. Did you see him try to get the door?"

Ferritin nodded. "It's what killed him."

Slick nodded. "I thought so." Then Ferritin was gone, back up the track to the barracks and Slick moved into the circle of men looking down in shock at their brother. He removed his helmet and knelt by the dead clone. The troopers also removed their helmets.

He'd been a shiny; they were all shinies except for Twenty-three. Slick nodded to himself. If Twenty-three wasn't damaged, he'd already be taking charge of the group as the most experienced trooper, saying a few words or giving comfort to the dead clone's closest brother. But Slick had been right and Twenty-three stood there in silence, the muscles of his jaw twitching.

Slick looked down at the dead shiny then stood and gazed at his new squad. "It's good to get the incompetent ones out of the way." He looked at the scars on Twenty-three's face, inspecting them. "I hope you can keep up; scars mean you're slow. Just keep up and the squad will cover you."

Twenty-three flinched.

Slick glanced down at the body. "Pack him up for the morgue," he told them. Then, when no one moved, he raised an eyebrow in question. "You do know how to prep a body for return, don't you?"

Only then did one of the troopers bend down and begin the process.

Slick turned and looked out toward where the snipers had been, as if guarding the others but his mouth was dry and bitter, his stomach churning.

He'd started the cruelty and it wouldn't end until these troopers were free men.


End file.
